


Black Coffee

by ShakespeareFreak



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coffee, Freeform, Love, Other, Poetry, Suggestive Themes, Writing about writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 16:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18742741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakespeareFreak/pseuds/ShakespeareFreak
Summary: "And just because every poet writes about coffee,I take mine black," she said.These final words resonated with the sublime beauty of perfect confidence.But I hate black coffee.





	Black Coffee

"And just because every poet writes about coffee,  
I take mine black," she said.  
These final words resonated with the sublime beauty of perfect confidence.  
But I hate black coffee.  
  
My words, like hers, echoed in the eager listening classroom:  
"Sex is wonder, magic, burning sparks,"  
I had written,  
In innocent naïveté,  
Unaware that passion cannot be encompassed by mere words.  
As I try to describe last night—  
The perfection of two bodies enmeshing,  
The way Sex and Love can seem inseparable at times—  
The black ink soaking into the lined notebook paper,  
It all seems so inadequate and cliché!  
I cross words out again and again,  
The scribbles screaming of anger and self-doubt!  
  
My lover sits,  
Fingers coaxing endless songs from the guitar  
With the legerdemain of a spider spinning webs:  
Complexity made to look simple;  
As I consider the meaning of Love—  
And how hard it can be.  
  
Was it only two days ago?  
It seems an eternity.  
As I remember the cold snow and such warm lips,  
Drifting smoke of cigarettes,  
I realize that life is not enchanted,  
That fairy tales do not come true;  
Though "Happily-Ever-After" can happen,  
It is not as easy as a perfect Hollywood script.  
  
My lover's eyelashes cast delicate shadows  
Over obsidian eyes,  
Touching my heart with clever tenderness.  
  
I thought I hated black coffee...  
That I needed sugar to make it sweet,  
Cream to take away the bitterness.  
But maybe you can only mask that tart taste,  
Not truly destroy it,  
With cream and sugar and fake smiles.  
Maybe coffee is best dark,  
Because it is naturally  
Black.

**Author's Note:**

> _Written approx. 2007 - 2008_
> 
> This poem was inspired by another poem. A long time ago, I attended a poetry club. One of the other people in the club, who I admired a lot, ended one of her poems with the line: "And just because every poet writes about coffee, I take mine black." From this line, my own poem slowly grew.
> 
> This poem was so well-loved by my friends that I recited it probably hundreds of times, and I now know it so well I've lost the meaning behind the words. I no longer have any sense of whether it's actually good, especially given how long ago I wrote it. You be the judge.
> 
> This poem was proof-read and edited by an old friend, Sam Johnson, a very talented musician and writer. He has my gratitude for his input.
> 
> I would credit the girl (well, woman, now) who wrote the poem that inspired this one, but I can't remember her name. So if you happen across this, and that opening line is yours, please let me know.
> 
> **P.S.** I still hate black coffee.


End file.
